


Purge

by CaptainLyssa



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mind Rape, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLyssa/pseuds/CaptainLyssa
Summary: Yet another “Blood Fever” AU, this time with an original (I hope) twist. WARNING: Minor character Death and non-consensual bonding (not sex).
Relationships: Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Purge

It was his first time. Oh, Vorik had been intimate before, that’s why he knew a human female would never do. All species, but humans especially, did not understand Pon Farr, due in part to his races silence on the subject and partly to their romanticism of other’s cultural taboos.

Sex, all Vulcan’s knew, had nothing to do with the Blood Fever. The two were very much mutually exclusive. If he wanted a woman to warm his bed, he could be gentle enough to choose a human, or another physically weak species. Vorik had been active in that regard for ten Earth years and his partners had never complained, no matter which race they hailed from. Vulcans, as with many other cultures in the quadrant, did not take a wife the first time they engaged in copulation. Only with maturity, when a Vulcan was ready, did the Pon farr commence. It was, he knew, now his time.

There were many species, other than human’s on board Voyager, but few of those females met his exacting standards in a wife. B’Elanna Torres, half Klingon-half Human seemed to be his only choice. Feeling the Blood Fever coming upon him, Vorik found there was much to admire about the woman. Her technical skills were impressive, her bravery and sense of moral duty matched his own. All excellent qualities in a prospective mate. Better still, she would be physically able to withstand the biological urges of Pon Farr, and the empathic bonding required for the remainder of their lives. Her often emotional outbursts could be tamed with his cool Vulcan logic. In every aspect, they were well matched.

“Yet,” Vorik fumed, feeling the fever come over him once again, “she has refused me.”

He recalled the incident in the Engineering bay this morning, which only heated his blood further. Tuvok had come, embarrassing them both with his words this afternoon. As a Vulcan male, Vorik’s worth would be measured by how he dealt with this initial Pon Farr. It seemed he had not acquitted himself well. Tuvok believed his attentions toward Lt. Torres had been unwanted and overly forceful. She had fought his attempts to mind meld with her. The logical part of Vorik’s brain could not help but see his actions as mental rape. He had forced himself upon her, transferring the Blood Fever to an unwilling recipient.

Staring at the candle in his quarters, he tried to calm his mind. Inner peace and balance settled over him, but Vorik knew his emotions bubbled dangerously below the surface. As an active volcano simmers, he could feel the mental rivers of lava reaching out for B’Elanna on the planet below, ready to erupt into life at the first opportunity. He had chosen her as his mate and found his thoughts returning to her time and again.

~~ooOOoo~~

“Why,” B’Elanna growled, “was Tom the only one with climbing experience. Still, at least he’s a better choice than that Vulcan petaQ. If Vorik comes near me again, I’ll do more than dislocate his jaw.” Smiling, she though about encountering Tom in the same situation. “Now, the thought of breaking Lt. Paris, that could be fun and end very pleasurably, for both of us.”

Still unaware of the mental link Vorik forced upon her, B’Elanna found her fury rising at one Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris and then ebbing just as quickly. He’d caused her mission to be delayed, letting Neelix fall on the last repel down a deep shaft. In her anger, she had bitten him on the cheek and then marched off in search of the gallicite required to repair her engines. Even though she’d left him behind, or, she though sourly, he’d chosen to stay with the injured Neelix, a tenuous thread linked them. She could make her way back to Tom blindfolded and almost did several times, just to drag him along on her quest. Still her volatile emotions did not give her the ability to rationalise or understand the meaning of bond.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, her mother’s voice drifted in and out of B’Elanna’s subconscious thoughts. Echos of lesson’s, Klingon rights and rituals, customs and culture, mixed, trying to break the surface, to explain her current behaviour. That echo became stronger every time she thought of Lt. Paris. Still, she could not make any link between Miral and Tom, even though she knew she should.

“He’s been a thorn in my side from the very first day,” B’Elanna muttered. Just considering Tom, she could feel him and his presence within the cave system. His blood coated her tongue and his smell her uniform. Weather she liked it or not, Thomas Paris surrounded her completely and his aura would not leave her in peace.

“I need to locate the gallicite,” she grumbled, focusing her thoughts on the mission. “Lt. Paris could have left Neelix after contacting Voyager. Doesn’t he know I need him with me. Nothing is more important than those warp coils.”

Deep down, B’Elanna knew she was lying to herself. For some reason, she wanted Tom with her, and the two of them alone. That Neelix had been injured only proved the pilot should have followed her after contacting Voyager for a medical evacuation. Even Neelix told Tom to go. Yet he’d chosen to stay behind, forcing her to leave her mark on his pale skin. Growling as she remembered the customs surrounding such an act, B’Elanna, forced herself to look down at her tricorder.

“Gallicite,” she grumbled, hoping the word would be enough.

~~ooOOoo~~

“Do you know what occurred this morning in Engineering, Lieutenant?” Tuvok asked, pulling Paris slightly away from the emergency retrieval team working on Neelix.

“You mean between Vorik and B’Elanna?” Tom responded. When the Vulcan nodded, he continued, “yah, she told Neelix and I in the transporter room before we beamed down to the surface. He’s a brave man, propositioning her like that. Vorik’s lucky she only bent him a little. Any one with less strength would have finished up with a broken bone or two.”

“Although we Vulcan’s do not speak of it,” Tuvok seemed uncomfortable, “the Doctor and I believe Ensign Vorik is experiencing Pon Farr. His inability to control his emotions forced the physical and mental attack on Lt. Torres, when he logically chose her as the best mate available on Voyager. I must inform you, Lt. Paris, that his actions are inexcusable. A Vulcan does not force their attentions on another without their consent.”

“Your saying he tried to…” incensed, Tom couldn’t say the word.

“Mentally, yes,” Tuvok responded, his eyes closed as he fought to suppress his revulsion. “Where we on Vulcan, his actions would be considered criminal. He has forced Lt. Torres to be come emotionally unstable.”

“Why,” Tom couldn’t help but appear as confused as he sounded, “are you telling me this?”

“Because I believe you are intimately involved in this situation, since Lt. Torres has chosen you for her mate in Vorik’s stead,” Tuvok said.

“Me,” Tom whistled. “Look, Tuvok, I’m not sure what your basing this on…”

“Vorik did not have time to complete the bond,” the Security Chief explained. “I believe Lt. Torres is suffering her own form of Blood Fever and will need to take a mate if she is to find a resolution. It is difficult to estimate how soon her condition will become life threatening,” Tuvok imparted emotionlessly to a confused Tom Paris.

“Life threatening?” Tom exploded, finally taking in what the Vulcan attempted to tell him, unobtrusively. “She could die from this?”

“I do not think, Mr. Paris, you are comprehending the significance of my information,” Tuvok’s tone did not change, but somehow the seriousness of his words did. “As Ensign Vorik has chosen Lt. Torres, Lt. Torres, in her own way has chosen you.”

Touching the bite mark on his cheek, Tom finally understood Tuvok’s meaning. “Why me?”

“You will have to ask Lt. Torres,” Tuvok allowed one eyebrow to rise in a typical Vulcan action, “when we locate her.”

“Right. Well, it looks like finding her won't be easy,” Tom retuned sardonically, attempting to hide his confusion. “Scanning range is limited to about twenty metres, and even that's not too reliable.”

“You said she was going after the gallicite, so we'll do the same and hope it leads us to her,” Chakotay added with every intention of letting the pair know he’d heard every word.

“I do not believe that will be necessary, Commander.” Tuvok indicated Tom’s sudden restlessness. “You must concentrate, Lt. Paris, if we are to succeed in finding Lt. Torres in time.”

Nodding, Tom drew in a long breath and closed his eyes. Somehow he could feel B’Elanna. It was like a faint thread, joining them. It wasn’t enough to locate her. The disappointed showed on his face.

“The gallicite is this way,” Chakotay said, heading down the left hand tunnel.

~~ooOOoo~~

“B'Elanna,” Tom cried, knowing she was around the corner. The thread had become stronger he closer they came to each other. He could feel her, almost like a sense of Déjà vu.

“Tom,” she returned, almost purring when he appeared. Rushing toward him, she grabbed his hand, allowing it to brush her face before pulling him back toward her discovery. “Come here. You've got to see this.”

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant?” Tuvok broke into their moment of bonding, as he observed the rather intimate greeting. Her reaction only confirmed his theory.

“Fine,” she returned, a little annoyed Tom had brought the senior officers. Yet it couldn’t stop the joy at seeing, touching, feeling and smelling Tom. If only the other’s weren’t here, she cold taste him as well. Forcing her attention back to her mission, she wanted to share her discoveries with the man currently holding her hand. “This is an active power system. It must've been built by the colonists.”

“We'll send somebody down here to study it more closely, B’Elanna,” Chakotay ordered. “Right now we've got to get you back to the ship.”

Turning on her one time mentor, she saw that look in his eye. This had nothing to do with getting her anywhere but away from Tom. He’d never like the Helmsman. “No, no. This is my discovery. It's my mission. You don't understand. This is the source of the gallicite readings. These conduits are covered with gallicite plating. It's exactly what we need, and I found it.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Tuvok stated logically, “you've succeeded in your mission. Now you must tend to yourself. You're experiencing a condition known as Pon farr. Your emotional balance has been disrupted. You may not be in control of your more aggressive instincts.”

“I only react aggressively, Lt. Tuvok,” B’Elanna responded coldly, “when provoked.”

“B’Elanna,” Tom spoke carefully, gently. When she did not take his meaning, he rubbed the bite mark still slightly oozing on his cheek. The motion caused her iris’s to grow darker and more expressive. They openly displayed her longing and desire.

“I lost my temper for a minute, that's all,” she pleaded with him. “Why are you all staring at me like that?”

It occurred, suddenly. Two men appearing from the cave walls, demanding to know the intentions of Voyager’s crew. However, they could feel the hostility emanating off Lt. Torres. Chakotay managed to talk them down, explaining B’Elanna’s reactions and Voyager’s security protocols. The Sakari natives returned Tuvok phaser, only to have their seismic alarm blare, startling B’Elanna.

Lt. Torres’s Klingon instincts kicked in when one of the aliens grabbed her. Snarling, she snatched his weapon. Before she could use it, Tom had her in a tight embrace. His smell gave her pause, instantly quelling the building rage.

“B'Elanna, don't!” He demanded harshly into her ear.

Yet, she fought him. Some instinct forced B’Elanna Torres to protect her mate, even though she knew Tom was well and truly able to protect himself. She didn’t spare a thought for Tuvok and Chakotay. Her world narrowed to the man surrounding her, trying to keep her safe as the cavern threatened to come crumbling down on their heads.

“B'Elanna!” Tom cried as the ground shook beneath them and he lost his grip.

Somehow they survived but found themselves alone. There was no trace of Tuvok or Chakotay. Bickering got them nowhere, the tricorder didn’t work and Tom wanted to keep moving. He promised to explain Tuvok’s strange remarks, but only if they continued to search for a way out.

“Tuvok must be wrong about this Pon Farr business,” B’Elanna declared with a heavy sigh.

“It explains Vorik’s actions in Engineering this morning,” Tom said. “It could also explain why you started a fight with a group of armed aliens, shouted at Neelix, and gave me this. If I remember my Klingon customs, biting someone on the face means…”

“I know what it means,” B’Elanna growled in response. Suddenly those voices nagging in her subconscious, the lesson’s her mother forced on her, made complete sense. They explained her behaviour, the emotions assaulting her and what she needed to do about it.

“When we get back to the ship, the doctor should be able to help,” Tom suggested, watching her intense response to his words. Noticing how this situation seemed to be affecting her, he tried to lighten the situation. “Or there's always Vorik.”

“Even if he were the last male left alive in the entire galaxy, I will never help that Vulcan petaQ! The idea of bonding with him,” B’Elanna’s anger suddenly evaporated. The look in her eye could only be called hurt. She felt crushed that Tom could even joke about something so repulsive when the man she wanted was standing before her. “It's ludicrous!”

While B’Elanna seemed lost in introspection, Tom took the phaser rifle from her slackened grip. He wasn’t quite fast enough. She managed to gain a hold before it slipped from her fingers.

B’Elanna’s temper flared. “Never pick a fight with a Klingon, Tom,” she challenged, wanting him to do just that.

“I'm not going to fight with you, B'Elanna,” he lent in close and whispered. “We both know this isn't about the gun. This is about what’s happened to you. It’s about a chemical imbalance making you feel sexual desire.”

She laughed, harshly. “Your right, it is about desire. I desire you, Tom Paris because I have picked up your scent. I've tasted your blood. Now I want you to prove your worthy.”

“I'm your friend, B’Elanna, and I have to watch out for you when your judgement's been impaired,” he stated, his voice a little more harsher than he wanted it to come out. “If you let these instincts take over now, you'll hate yourself, and me too for taking advantage of you.”

“You don't know how strong, how hard it is to fight this urge,” she sounded a little lost and frightened.

“Are you telling me that I'm impossible to resist?” As always, when in doubt, Tom turned to levity to break a stifling situation.

“I’m telling you,” B’Elanna approached, coming closer, her voice becoming quieter, more husky with each word and her eyes locking on his, “your my choice, Tom. I could have chosen any man on Voyager, and there are some fine specimens available. But I didn’t bite Chakotay or Tuvok even when I had the chance, I didn’t want to.”

“B’Elanna,” Tom Paris found himself in deep, dark waters he’d never experienced before, “why me?”

It was the easiest question with the hardest answer. The Klingon part of her had known from the beginning. That part of her recalled the man aiding her to climb out of the Ocampa city. It had been the human insecurities that took time to understand her motivations for choosing Tom Paris. That hadn’t started until she been split in two. He been so supportive in the Vidian prison. That’s when B’Elanna Torres saw the man who lay beneath the hard surface he displayed to the rest of the world.

“Because I love you,” the words come out softly, heartfelt and slightly insecure.

“I wish I knew that it was you talking, B’Elanna,” Tom couldn’t keep the sorrow from his tone, “because I love you too. I have for a while. I always hoped when we made love, it would be because you wanted to. Not because someone else force you into a lust fulled need to mate.”

“You don't know anything,” she spat. “I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin, not because Vorik tried to bond with me. This feeling, of needing to do something is my Klingon heritage, not something that Vulcan petaQ forced on me. He might have started this, might have finally allowed my Klingon genes to do what I wanted to do, but I’m in control,” she growled low in her throat.

Tom knew he was in trouble the moment B’Elanna pushed him to the ground and straddled his groin. Even as he tried to push her off, she laughed. “I can take you,” B’Elanna crowed. “The more you fight me, the more I know how much you want this to, Tom.”

“I can't let you do this,” Tom struggled beneath her, finally wedging one leg against the floor and turning them over. He now lay atop of B’Elanna. She seemed pleased with the manoeuvre, especially when Paris pinned her arms above her head.

“You don’t control me,” B’Elanna smiled with feline grace and power. “I remember every invitation to dinner. And on the holodeck, the way you would stare at me when you thought I wasn't looking, and get jealous when I so much as spoke with someone else. You can't tell me you're not interested in becoming my mate.”

“You're right,” Tom agreed. “I can't.”

B’Elanna had heard all she needed to hear. He wanted her as much as she did him. “Then don't push me away, bangwI'.”

The Klingon phrase, along with the soft kiss B’Elanna delivered to his lips broke Tom’s resistance. “I hope you know what your doing,” he murmured when they broke apart.

“I hope,” B’Elanna returned, using his moment of hesitancy to reverse their positions, “your prepared.”

What followed would forever remain between the two participants. Trapped so far below the surface and out of communications range, they wouldn’t be disturbed until the mating ritual came to it’s natural conclusion. Tom and B’Elanna were still curled up in the corner of the cave when they heard Chakotay call out to them. Both looking the worse for ware, Tom answered the Commander carefully.

“B’Elanna needs help,” he said, picking up scattered clothing. He’d survived the ordeal relatively unscathed, a broken rib or two his only injuries. It didn’t hurt to much, if Tom used an arm to splint his torso. “We need to get her out of here.”

Looking up at him, B’Elanna smirked. It took her newly bonded mate to aid her into her skin tight and indestructible uniform. Even then, she felt exhausted, sore and in need of several days rest.

When Tuvok and Chakotay managed get through the rock fall, Tom helped B’Elanna every step of the way to the surface. If Tuvok noticed the injuries the Lieutenants carried, he didn’t say a word. Chakotay’s simply raised an eyebrow in a very Vulcan gesture.

“Chakotay to Voyager,” the commander attempted to raise the ship when they exited the cave system. “Please respond.”

“What's the matter?” Tom asked, pulling B’Elanna closer into his embrace. Her energy reserves seemed to be flagging, just as his were. “Why aren't they answering?”

“You are my mate,” Vorik erupted from the bushes, attempting to grab B’Elanna from Tom, “not his!”

“You have no right, Vorik,” B’Elanna’s rage erupted as the last of her adrenaline filled strength returned , “after what you force on me!”

“I've come to claim you, to fulfil our bond, and if necessary, to face my rival,” Vorik declared.

“You what,” B’Elanna laughed at the Vulcan standing before her. “Claim me! PateQ, you know nothing! A Klingon woman chooses her own mate. You cannot fulfil any bond, because all you tried to do is rape my mind, to bend my thoughts to your will. Klingon’s are not so easily influenced, Vulcan. You deserved to be thrown into the brig for what you tired.”

“Do you wish to press charges, Lt Torres?” Tuvok asked quietly.

“Sir,” Vorik declared, at the edge of all reason, “I declare Koon-ut-kal-if-fee.”

“That is impossible, Ensign,” Tuvok responded. “You have not only deprived Lt. Torres of her liberty in forcing Pon Farr upon her, I believe you are responsible for disabling the communications, transports and shuttles.”

“No one will keep me from my mate!” Vorik declared, launching himself at Tom who still supported B’Elanna.

“I can never agree to be your mate!” She responded, fury clouding her deep brown eyes. “I have taken a husband by Klingon custom. Come near either one of us gain, and I’ll break your jaw next time, among other bones.”

“Lt. Torres,” Tuvok inserted calmly, “if Ensign Vorik is unable to resolve the Pon Farr, it will kill them.”

“Your telling me, he can live to do this to another woman on Voyager in the future,” B’Elanna accused, “if I don’t rise to his challenge and beat him to a pulp?”

“That is a possibility,” Tuvok answered dispassionately. “You have the right to charge Ensign with assault. I will take him into custody but he will die before Captain Janeway passes judgement.”

“B’Elanna,” Tom approached quietly, “I don’t want you to live with the consequences either way. There has to be a way to resolve this.”

His soft words in the ear of the woman Vorik considered his mate set the Vulcan into a killing rage. Seeing his opportunity, Tuvok allowed the younger man to pass. Vorik did not get to B’Elanna and Tom before the Security Chief applied a Vulcan nerve pinch. The Ensign dropped to the ground.

“Janeway to away team,” the captain’s voice finally broke through the communications barrier.

“Five to beam up,” Chakotay requested, an urgent note in his tone. “Lock onto Lt. Torres and Paris and transport them directly to sickbay.”

“I would like a security detail waiting to take Ensign Vorik to the brig, Captain,” Tuvok stated.

“Acknowledged,” Janeway kept the curiosity from her tone. “Report to my ready room, Commander, the moment your on board.”

~~ooOOoo~~

Tom had been realised from sick bay within a few minutes. A session with the osetogenerator and his ribs were as good as new. When the doctor reached for the dermal repair kit, he borked.

“Thanks, Doc,” he grinned, touching the newly formed scab on his cheek, “but I think I’ll keep this one.”

“As you wish, Lt. Paris. Now go to your quarters and get some rest. I have other patients to treat,” the EMH dismissed the cocky helmsman. When Tom continued to hang around, the Doctor stated, “do I need to make that an order, Lieutenant?”

Sending B’Elanna a kicked puppy dog look, she redirected her gaze to the floor. Disappointed, Tom slipped out of the sick bay. Not sure where their relationship, if it could even be called that, was headed, he knew they couldn’t leave things as they were. Waiting for the Doctor to patch her up, Tom didn’t have to wait long.

B’Elanna had other ideas. Marching out of the door, she expected Tom to be waiting for her. Ignoring him, She marched to the nearest turbolift.

“Looks like you're feeling better,” Tom spoke quietly as they stepped inside. “Did the Doc give you the rest of the day off.”

“Deck Eleven,” B’Elanna barked as the doors shut. “I don’t have time to rest right now.”

“Computer, halt turbolift,” Paris ordered. “B’Elanna”

“He’d going to die, Tom,” she looked up at him with sorrow filled eyes.

“That’s not your fault, B’Elanna,” Tom consoled. “Vorik attacked you.”

“I could have taken him,” she felt the emotions, repressed by all that had occurred, come rushing to surface.

“You were in no fit state to take on anyone,” Tom reached for her but she backed away. “That’s why Tuvok made the decision to disable Vorik. He knew we were both injured and what the consequences would be. Besides, I meant every word I said, B’Elanna. I love you and I couldn’t see that pateQ hurt you, even though he has, though no fault of yours.”

“If only I had…” she started. Not seeing anything but her own thoughts and feeling at first, Tom waited patiently for her to finally see him. B’Elanna’s eyes narrowed on the mark he would forever ware as a badge of honour on his left cheek. “You would never have let me, would you.”

“No,” Tom confessed. This time, when he opened his arms, B’Elanna went willingly. “You would never have been happy in a marriage you didn’t want, even if it saved his life.”

“He’s suffered enough,” B’Elanna decided. “I don’t want to press charges.”

“I’ll support you, no matter what decision you make, bangwI',” Tom whispered into her ear. “Besides, I’ve been up close and personal with your big, scary Klingon side and you know, it wasn't so terrible. In fact, I wouldn't mind seeing it again someday. Computer, resume.”

“Careful what you wish for, bangwI',” B’Elanna growled as she exited the lift.

“Deck one,” Tom ordered, unable to wipe the smile from his face. He knew it would all work out, no matter how much time it took for B’Elanna to come around completely.

~~ooOOoo~~

**Captain's log, stardate 50541.6**. Ensign Vorik passed away this morning from the effects of unresolved Pon Farr. Although he inflicted his unwanted attentions on the Chief of Engineering, Lt. Torres chose not to press charges. B’Elanna has been supported in this decision by her Klingon common law Husband, Lt. Paris. Lt Tuvok has made a full report on the occurrences on the Sakari Homeworld in his security logs and takes full responsibility for the death of his fellow Vulcan. This has not absolved Lt’s Torres and Paris from expressing their feeling of guilt at Ensign Vorik’s passing. I can only hope that time will heal their wounds.


End file.
